Changes
by Kristen APA
Summary: [Set post-S4, in 1924] Changes are in store for Anna and John. Mostly fluff.


**A/N: **Thank you everyone who has left feedback in any form on my other fics!

I'm going to give this one a slight trigger warning, as I do discuss a little more in-depth Anna's mindset now a few years later. It's still fairly vague, but the issue is addressed.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Downton Abbey._

* * *

Change was always imminent at Downton Abbey, and the servants' hall was abuzz with the latest gossip of their employees. Thomas was certain that a major shake up was about to occur upstairs.

John watched Anna push her peas around on her dinner plate, disinterested. Only she seemed more unexcited by her meal than the topic at hand. She had barely eaten all day, he had noticed. There would be times like this since that horrible night, where she'd become suddenly withdrawn. It had been almost two years now, but that not mean that the pain did not ever come rushing back like it was yesterday. He always tried to make things easier for her, but sometimes that meant just being there for her. The healing process was never ending, and they could not change what had happened, but they worked on moving forward, and things were better. They had reclaimed things that they were afraid were lost, allowing some shadows to fade.

"What about you, Anna? You're her lady's maid."

Thomas' question almost made her jump, but she quickly answered, with a bit of sass in her tone. "It's not my place to say."

"Certainly not," chimed in Mr. Carson. "I think that's quite enough, Mr. Barrow. I've let this conversation go on too long as it is."

Daisy came around to collect the plates, Anna's peas still uneaten. If the girl noticed, she chose not to comment. The pudding was brought out, but the blonde did not take a biscuit like usual. The servants shuffled around as the meal came to a close.

John got up to retrieve his book. "I'll get your mending for you."

His wife half-smiled in reply.

He returned to the table with the items, just as Miss Baxter was setting up her electric sewing machine. Anna took the mending, thanking him, but did not start on it. Instead, she watched Miss Baxter thread the bobbin and wind it with the machine.

The other woman smiled. "Have you considered getting one of your own, Mrs. Bates?"

"I have Mr. Bates' mother's old machine. I use it at home, but it's manual and goes fairly slow."

"Your hand sewing is so neat though, you make perfect stitches at a pretty fast rate," Miss Baxter complimented.

Anna quietly thanked her. Normally, she'd be putting those neat stitches into the fabric by now, working as she talked. But the mending stayed on the table. She always threw herself into her work when she was stressed, so her still hands made John worry even more.

Mr. Molesley came to sit beside Miss Baxter. Both John and Anna thought that the pair made a cute couple and tried to encourage the relationship. Mr. Molesley was hapless, but Miss Baxter seemed to find that endearing.

John turned to his wife to wink as the new lovebirds engaged in some flirting. But Anna's eyes were trained at the pile of material before her.

"Anna," he began cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

She blinked hard a few times, before looking up at him. "I'm just feeling a bit under the weather. Maybe I'm coming down with a cold."

She wasn't the best of liars, him always knowing when something was not quite right. But her answer was genuine. The other two were in their own bubble chatting, so he patted her gently on the back. "Hopefully Lady Mary will ring soon, so we can get you home and you can rest."

Luckily they did not have to wait too long. Lady Mary was rising early to go with Mr. Branson to check on various farms in the morning, so she did not turn in late.

The couple walked home to the cottage, arms linked, slower than usual, but on her account rather than his. She didn't seem to him to have the symptoms of a cold though, no coughing or sneezing.

"Are you sure it's a cold?" he asked.

"No," she replied quietly, eyes down on the road. "Truthfully, I feel rather queasy And not—not in the usual way." When anxiety seized her, her stomach turned and twisted into knots, a state that she unfortunately had grown used to. "This feels a little different."

"Maybe I shouldn't go with his lordship tomorrow. Thomas can go." Lord Grantham had an important dinner in London the next day, and required John's assistance to look especially well-groomed.

She shook her head. "It's only one night, I can manage."

"I just don't like thinking about you sick in the cottage by yourself though."

"I'll be fine,' she insisted, her tone a little lighter.

John wanted to tell her to go see Dr. Clarkson, but she knew she'd refuse right away to do so. She still had not been to see the doctor in these past two years. John wondered if it was more because she feared the exam, or more the results. All he could do is rely on Mrs. Hughes to keep an eye in her while he was away.

They arrived home, and quickly got ready for bed. Anna fell fast and soundly asleep, showing just how tired she was. A good night's rest was a blessing for her now, and John hoped it was enough to make her feel better in the morning.

* * *

She definitely seemed more perked up as she saw him off in the morning. John asked Mrs. Hughes to look out for his wife, and he could tell that the housekeeper had noticed that something was off herself.

The train ride to London was uneventful. Once John settled his lordship into the club, he decided to set off to his favorite book shop there, hoping to pick up something that he could read to Anna at night. They were often too tired to keep up the tradition every night, but it was something the both greatly enjoyed, and Anna found it soothing, his voice quietly rumbling as she snuggled against him. Perhaps he could find a novella that would help cheer her up. Half way through his walk, he was wondering if maybe he should have stayed at the club and made a call to the Abbey. They normally only telephoned when one or the other was going to be gone for a week or more though.

As he pondered this, something in the store window next to him caught his eye.

* * *

John and Lord Grantham returned right before the family's dinner, so Anna was attending to Lady Mary when they arrived. Before he set off upstairs to unpack his lordship, John went to have a quick word with Mrs. Hughes in her sitting room.

"Well, she certainly does seem a little ill. She spent a long time in the lavatory yesterday morning, but she was feeling well enough to go on an extended errand this afternoon."

John sighed. "Well, I'll see how she is. I wish she'd see Dr. Clarkson, but… well you know. She still won't go for any ailment, even now."

"I'd volunteer to go with her, but I think that would just embarrass her, and she'd refuse still." The housekeeper sighed.

"Unfortunately yes, but thank you," he replied, always greatly appreciated how Mrs. Hughes cared for Anna like a daughter.

* * *

When they finally met up, it was practically time for their own dinner. John had missed her when he went to unpack his lordship. Anna looked a little pale, but she smiled brightly at him, leaving the table to greet him at the doorway, and then lead him a bit down the corridor and away from the others.

"Feeling any better?" he asked. He gently ran his hand down her arm.

She nodded, still smiling. "Much."

"Glad to hear it." He paused, wondering if he should reveal his secret now. "I brought something back for you."

"You didn't have to," she chided.

"But I wanted to."

Mr. Carson's voice boomed from the hall, announcing dinner for the servants. Anna inclined her head, finding John's hand and squeezing it before they headed back for their meal.

* * *

A package was awaiting them on the front step of the cottage when they retired for the night.

Sensing this was the item he mentioned earlier, Anna curiously inquired, "John Bates, what is this?"

"Your gift," he said proudly. He had asked Mr. Stark if he could drop it off so that he'd only have to manage his bag. He insisted to Anna that he'd scoot it into the house for her now, though.

Once they were settled in the sitting room, he urged her to open the box. With a smile, she obliged, and revealed that inside was an electric sewing machine, a slightly newer model than Miss Baxter's. "John, can we afford this?"

"You'll be happy to know that they were having a sale." They didn't hurt for money – their salaries and the rent from his mother's house was more than enough for their monthly expenses, and they still had money from his inheritance, which sat in a savings account in Anna's name, a generous judge allowing her to have it after the trial. They continued still to set aside part of their earnings in the hope of buying a hotel, but it was a dream neither of them had muttered in some time. Anna, though, was never quite used to having a bit of spending money.

"I do have one," she said gesturing to his mother's, set up a card table against wall.

He felt defeated. "Well, that machine's at least twenty years old and I saw you admiring Miss Baxter's. You deserve a new one."

She flicked her eyes down and then back up at him. "Well, I certainly can use it.'

That perked him back up a little.

"All right," she gave in, "I was a bit envious of hers. Before we were married, I loved having extra mending so that I could spend more time with you in the servants' hall."

They both smiled, recollecting.

"But now I'd rather be able to go home early and spend time with you here." There was a sparkle in her eye, one that had been missing these past few days. "I will have to figure out about carting it back and forth… especially since—" she cut herself off. "Well."

John was confused. What had she stopped herself from saying? She was still smiling, and now muttering something about the case having a handle, so it wouldn't be too hard to carry.

She seemed satisfied now. "Thank you so much." She stood on her tippy-toes, to kiss him on the cheek, and then give him quick embrace from the side.

"You are very welcome."

Her eyes lit up with an idea. "I'm going to try it out for a quick bit."

"Very well. I'll go up, but I got something new to read to you as well."

She smiled again in gratitude. "I'll be up soon."

John headed upstairs, washed up and changed into his pyjamas. He climbed into bed with the book, waiting for his wife to join him. But he soon nodded off, the journey home tiring him out.

He awoke to the machine chugging along and then a frustrated "Drat!" He glanced at the clock. If Anna was still ill, she needed to be asleep by now. He padded downstairs. She had switched out his mother's machine with the new one on the end of the table, and she was attempting to sew some white fabric she had pinned together.

"Anna, darling, let's go to bed."

She sighed. "It goes too fast, which is what I want, but I'm afraid of sewing my fingers together."

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it in no time." He motioned for her to come with him.

"I just wanted to—" she stopped herself. "Well, I don't want to let you down, with the gift you've given me and all."

"You could never let me down," he said softly.

She looked at him, and gave him a small smile, eternally grateful for the double meaning in his words.

* * *

Anna took the machine with her to work the next morning. John offered to carry it, but she insisted that she was quite capable with the handle.

Miss Baxter kindly offered her assistance to the other lady's maid, having her work with scraps until she felt like she'd mastered it. Anna was a quick learner, and John loved seeing her smile and laugh. Miss Baxter was good addition to the staff, not just for Lady Grantham and Mr. Molesley, but Anna as well, who made a new friend in a time when she desperately needed support. John sometimes wondered if Miss Baxter had figured out what had happened, given her patience and understanding when Anna had her quiet spells. He also wondered what it would have been like if Miss O'Brien still around. Would she have pried? Or would she have backed off once she discovered the truth? Luckily, Miss Baxter was not giving into Thomas' demands to be kept informed on all the going-ons of the house, in part thanks to Mr. Molesley's friendship.

Mrs. Patmore was not amused at the dual sewing machines, claiming that it was too much change and two going at once made it sound like the devil was coming.

* * *

That night, they had a repeat of the previous: John retired to bed, and Anna worked on the project she tried to start before. When he came to convince her to get some sleep, she quickly stashed the material into her fabric basket. She dozed off as he began to read chapter two of their book out loud, her head resting on his chest.

John awoke in the middle of the night to discover that his wife was missing from their bed. He got up and peeked in the bathroom, and not finding her there, went to check their sitting room. Sometimes she'd read downstairs if she had a hard time falling asleep, letting the stories take her mind off of things.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, seeing her on the settee. But as he rounded to the front, he saw that she wasn't reading but attaching lace to the bundle of white fabric. She tried to stash it away behind the pillow.

He looked at her quizzically.

"I have to hand stitch the lace on, I don't trust the machine. At least not yet." She looked a bit guilty.

"And it can't wait until tomorrow?" he asked confused.

"Well I wanted to tell you tomorrow. Actually, I want to tell you now." She twisted her hands nervously. "But I came up with this silly plan, because I was unsure how, and once you brought home the new sewing machine…"

He sat down on the settee beside her, extremely puzzled.

She grabbed the fabric from behind the pillow and held it up. It was actually two pieces – a very small white dress and a cap, which fell into her lap.

John's heartbeat quickened. Only one thing made sense now.

"Anna, are you telling me—"

"Yes, John, I am. I'm pregnant." She paused, grinning. "I'd never imagined we'd have this conversation in our pyjamas though."

"Me neither." He laughed and she giggled, both brightly beaming, with happy tears misting their eyes, so many emotions overtaking them.

She reached up and stroked his face. He leaned in and cupped hers, and then their lips met. As they broke apart, he took her hand and kissed it, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders.

"I had thought maybe…" she was struggling to get the words out now, "that this would never happen. Even—even before."

"I understand. But it has happened now," he said softly, his voice full of love. He remembered what Mrs. Hughes had told him about her long errand in the village. "Did you see Dr. Clarkson?"  
"Yes." She exhaled. "And he said everything was fine. With the baby, with me."

He patted her leg, so very proud of her. He then fingered the lace she had just sewn onto the christening gown. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "He says I'm about two months gone. The morning sickness is completely normal." She paused. "The only concern that he has is having my first child at a later age."

He nodded, knowing that he was going to have a tough time of convincing her to rest like the doctor probably prescribed.

Reading his mind, she said "Dr. Clarkson says I can stay on working awhile yet, but I do need to take it a little easier."

"And not stay up in the middle of the night sewing, surely." He said it jokingly, but meant it seriously.

"No, I suppose that goes against the doctor's orders," she chuckled.

He stoked her abdomen very lightly, barely moving his fingers. Soon she'd have a bump, and then they'd have the child that they had yearned so long for. "You need to though. Starting now, I'll say. The baby doesn't need his for a few more months." He broke apart from her, collecting the tiny outfit from her lap. He then extended his other hand to her to help off the settee.

She gladly accepted it, and let him lead her upstairs. They climbed back into bed, pressing their bodies together. Her head nestled onto his chest once more, but their hands this time laced together on her stomach, forming an extra layer of protection over the life that they had created with their love. A dream finally was coming true, after so many obstacles and against all odds. Thomas was right – change was coming but in the best possible way.

* * *

**A/N: **Whoops, more cheesy fluff. The more I proofread, the more I felt like they were OOC, hopefully it wasn't too bad. Thank you for reading!

I'm thinking about filling my own prompt for a Banna/Baxley double date fic, and might make it the sequel to this, a couple months later down the road.


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